Industrial Magic
by Heliosion
Summary: Where Harry is the oldest of his broken family, one father lost in his bitterness, the mother gone to a faraway land. The boy who was once cursed but now freed by Death stands alone yet strong. Come read as the consequences of his life, a world filled with greater mysteries, battles and challenges begin to bear fruit and new dangers await for him! This is my AU. See more inside!
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter: My Way

"Industrial Magic"

By Heliosion

Chapter 1: A Day of Profit

Disclaimer: I own nothing of this damn fine series of books well until J.K Rowling went insane after her first few hundred million dollars and started writing crap after The Order Of The Phoenix because she had so little time left to write with all that money she had to count but hell what can you do? If life gives you lemons make lemonade and that's what I'm going to do with this fic.

Oh yeah for everybody who is not totally switched on _italics _mean either thinking or talking in any other language but English. I will be sure to tell you if they are doing either okay. I can't be assed to accent the English or whatever so live with it!

Oh yeah jbern I love you so I'm going to thank him for inventing spell chaining which for the sake of this fic I shall call the flicker technique and Penelope Clearwater as a journalist. He told me I could use them if I acknowledged the man for inventing them first.

Mind that some concepts and characters from the Dresden Files are also taken. No main characters but minor characters and their magical ways will also see some action.

This starts in year four (Triwizard) so expect a lot of history details thrown about. This is my world so thank you.

XreviewX

It was the biggest event of its kind that had ever been. From robed wizards, excitable witches, ancient elves, various Fae to beautiful veela and pale-faced vampires, there was a little bit of everything gathered for the festivities. The Quidditch World Cup was in full bloom. With perfect blue skies, burning yellow sun and a pleasant breeze that caught the smell of pine and the sense of nature helping to foster a warm atmosphere.

The land was notoriously xenophobic, violently so in many cases. England persecuted their last great sentient population, their native clans of vampires, into fleeing to their original homes across the sea two hundred years ago. It left only the small independent goblins of Gringotts, unified since the last rebellion alongside a magically bound treaty for extra security, yet, for the name of a sporting event, they had cordoned off the entire stadium and surrounding forest. They placed these unique circumstances in the hands of the I.C.W., or the International Confederation of Wizards, and their mandate, which had a less narrow view. For a few days, the ever so gracious pureblood population of wizards, the largest left over apart from Australia or America, had graciously acceded their untainted land for the use of beings they saw as below them.

Magical tents were situated everywhere, erratically comprising of every conceivable configuration and size. Turret shaped, square and shallow or circular puff tents littered the landscape, compromised of all the colours of the rainbow plus some eccentric shades of pink or magenta. There were all kinds carrying their internal secrets of special space time magnifying charms that made it bigger inside than outside and, sometimes, a few of them were the opposite. Notably, the insular British residents who were given priority in terms of how close to the stadium they were had other illegal adaptations like chimneys or wind vanes that was taking the I.C.W. international task force a lot of time to get them removed or hidden by illusions. The few muggles here, the farmer owner of the land with his wife and children had their minds altered so many times from faults listing from trying to pay with gold galleons or men arriving in dresses mistaking them for robes there were talks of the field hospital at the far end of the compound having to send out a healer. This was to check for instabilities or deviant behaviour that had not been there before the event was organised and if need be administer the proper medical attention lest the British aurors left in charge of their section wouldn't incur the ridicule of their foreign counterparts.

But this mattered little to Harry James Potter. He was in the market region, far entrenched in the European community heartland straddling the forest perimeter where hundreds of stalls packed like battery hens had been set up selling all sorts of goods, produce and even in some cases livestock. All measures of life preferred this bustling, crowded circle of small stalls and food stands to the stiff and racist British areas (not that anything non-human could go in there anyway) despite the cleaner and better protection their market area provided. Crime was rife here, security thinner than the jacket he was wearing, but they could move around without feeling like alien life forms and racism was hypocritical with the menagerie of differing races both from Earth and beyond meandering around the place.

Harry had taken the best spot near the centre, just behind an ice cream cart after arriving here three days before the quidditch world cup final was scheduled to begin. He had evaded the I.C.W. patrols by the skin of his teeth trained to look for people such as him in the forest and had even had to stun three of them to create a distraction to slip away. If he hadn't his trusty invisibility cloak and his common sense to negate the need for a tent or a sleeping bag with insulation charms in place it would have been game over from the thorough search (something Harry wasn't used to from his native law enforcement) they had conducted of the camping field and neighbouring forests. Now he was here, in a perfect location to sell after a few brief duels with wizards just as keen to get the best spots to set up shop with his little brown trunk with bronze fittings open. Inside were six deep caverns from his tinkering providing all sorts of potions and elixirs, brews and home remedies. He sat on a lime green carpet (that could fly to catch people's attention when law enforcement wasn't watching) and had blaring dance muggle music playing to attract attention from a battery operated MP3 player with speakers attached and a loudening charm to increase their tinny sound.

He did not want to think about how long it took for him to configure those spatial thinning something or other enchantment he had to _invent_ just to get that muggle technology to work in areas with enormous magical energy in the background and the fact he had to build it by hand to get around the ban on enchanted muggle items in the United Kingdom. It seemed anything apart from auto-mobiles beyond say the 1940s started to go haywire when magic or, especially so, True magic, also known as Sorcery, was within a hundred metres of it. Harry had a hypothesis that was why in certain places for no reason at all in muggle zones with mages living nearby they couldn't get a decent satellite signal like his home of Potter Manor.

Anyway, as he had been boasting about before, Harry was making good business. His sign was attracting attention, a simple laminated piece of muggle made cardboard colour charmed marigold that randomly yelled out over his music about his potion wares. They sang in soprano what was left in stock in real time to what was actually sold and in a tenor tone any special offers with an accompanying flashing sign which writing was constantly changing, declaring proudly that the proprietor would take an oath to guarantee their validity. Also in a powerful shout every five minutes, the talking piece of stiff paper proudly told anyone who would listen, the more disreputable deals in progress around the vicinity of Harry with his messy black hair tied into a rough ponytail and the fact the teen was a licensed grade two potion brewer.

Among the gawping crowds admiring the spectacle, some with allures making Harry's gaze follow them, a greying wizard with a red expensive looking robe that drew a lot of attention approached his tent jauntily while he served a cough solution to a young dryad mother for her sickly looking kid who really needed to find a tree and chill for a day or two. Magical beings rarely did well with wizarding form of travel and especially so when they were symbiotic in terms of sentient life. Something to do with the concentration of controlled magical energy and the interference of an enchanted device to the streams of old magic all sentient life drew their powers from.

"Got any virility solution?" he drawled cautiously with a Scandinavian accent so thick Harry had to tilt his head to get the man to repeat himself.

Harry tilted his glasses with stylishly thin black square frames and answered once he comprehended the man butchering the English tongue. The simple act much to Harry's satisfaction made the buyer nervous. Exactly as he planned it to be exact. "Do you have any paperwork from your healer saying you can purchase it?"

"Well you see…" the man hid his face in his hood and pulled out a money bag from under his sleeve.

Harry knew the type and he was a roguish individual. Simple regulations regarding body affecting potions meant nothing if the customer was good at being discreet. The young mage, his torso shapeless by his long and flowing white hooded cloak pulled around him allowed a ringed hand to reach into a compartment. All he had to do was think about what he wanted and a clear vial with a rubber stopper was placed into his hands (excellent charm Harry had looked up from his family's Book of Shadows) so he could give it the ageing mage who 'dropped' the money bag. Then, he produced a simple vial of pepper up potion, the emerald eyed teenager had stashed under his cloak to cover up the illegal transaction.

"This is all I can suggest without asking for documentation from a registered healer sir." For added emphasis on his fake sympathy he added "Sorry," then looked away guiltily, inwardly pleased with the excellent acting of his customer.

"Are you sure you couldn't… you know," the man looked around continuing his act with Harry playing along with his disapproving frown. "A shame indeed," the man conceded slouching in faux defeat, "As I could pay you more if that helps you."

Harry took the bag covertly and said apologetically, barely concealing a satisfied smirk, "Sorry, sir, but I am a reputable seller. I have read research claiming pepper up potion sometimes has aphrodisiac properties if you're willing to give it a try, but I am bound by the law not to sell potentially harmful substances to someone of your age without clearance from an ordained healer."

"It is a shame, yes, but thank you anyway I will take what I can, good day," the man said with a fake frown. The horny European winked at the kid during their 'transaction' as he slipped easily back into the horde of the crowd. Another deal made more money to line his pockets for later. If he kept this up, his profit margin would be over eighty percent.

Harry was really good at making good money. He loved repeating that fact to himself the longer he hung around here. God bless the biggest sporting event in the world coming to his country to gather the customers in one spot. But what was even more wonderful was swearing oaths about the effectiveness of his potions that helped to draw in the customers, where the surrounding stalls were only selling what they had brought in from wholesalers less regulated than a dog grooming parlour. These mass produced liquids with less than reputable brewers supplying them helped his cause too. Harry had heard rumours of potions with similar colouration being mislabelled like common household violet doxy poison being mixed up with a simple laxative. Or fire water, orange in colour used to treat lime scale build ups mistakenly consumed when thought to be Skele-Gro that left their victim to suffer a slow agonizing death from internal third degree burns.

It made this all the sweeter to his profit margins taking that little bit more care in his business practices. A good reputation by word of mouth in this place had helped when pricing items as well which was nice. He could charge a few sickles more than his competitors who could only guarantee that if something went wrong the one afflicted would be lucky to even hear the name of their alias they used ever again.

"Excuse me," asked a velvety tone. Harry was rugby tackled out of his cash induced ecstasy to turn to face the customer and instantly the young man batted down the hatches by erecting his occlumency, the technique to scatter ones memories to help resist the mental manipulation of his emotions. If you needed a metaphor for how his mind was working, his memories were pin balls bouncing around inside his head so fast they couldn't be used as references for his emotions to follow. To add overkill, his aura began to fluctuate randomly just below the perception of the naked eye to stop the veela allure trying to unconsciously synch with him.

"Can I help you Miss?" Harry greeted the young veela with eastern European inflections in her voice. She was very much so a pureblood from the tell-tale platinum blonde hair, the small but manageable bosom that looked large on her frail frame and she had shapely, long and slender legs that hung from her little red dress perfectly. Just like the wizarding slavers between the twelve to fourteenth centuries had bred them to be like to the smallest detail.

The veela looked surprised that Harry could form a coherent sentence instead of burning her image into his retinas, bowing to her every whim with her allure blasting out at him and drooling from being within a mile of her presence. In fact, she was radiating so much of that compulsion every man who passed gawped at her before loved ones irately moved them along or their sudden stalling made the person behind them in the busy crowd bump into them and forcing them out of their funk. She had to be fully matured, a woman of vast experience in how to use her inborn powers as her allure tried five different ways to synchronise with his aura with no effect before the woman gave in.

In an instant, her look of concentration changed. Her voice became smaller; her cherry lips pouted cutely, her eyelashes fluttered submissively as her pre-programmed genes tried a different tack that replicated a kicked puppy. If he didn't have total control over his mind Harry might have actually been a big enough sap to fall for it.

"Do you sell potions for children?"

"I sell anything from general healing potions to balms for measles." He recited, smiling victoriously as she futilely tried to snare him again with absolutely no success. She had met the wrong seller this time.

Her perfect posture shrank, became smaller to enhance her kicked puppy impersonation. All she needed to do now was pitifully whine to complete the look. "Do you have anything for the blue shade fever?"

Blue shade fever was a contagious virus that was as common as measles had been long ago. It took a simple, inexpensive treatment to treat a fluctuating body temperature and fluid build-up in the lungs, but it was indigenous to only veela and if left untreated only led to a slow and painful death. Among his trips included some time with their race to be specific a few of their flocks located around the globe and some of the pure bloods that had married into wizarding bloodlines hence a lot of his understanding towards veela, their language and culture.

"Is your child a pureblood too, madam?" he asked politely. The woman nodded. The dress he took note of was frayed in places meaning she was not very wealthy, maybe part of the commune flock the Bulgarians had brought over for their mascots. He was lucky he knew the right dialect to spare her blushes if her game plan was to get a freebie. "_Can you afford this my lady? I noticed your state of dress." _When it came to veela, he had from experience it was better to be direct with them. They were creatures that had the capacity to snap their fingers and get what they wanted. It was bred into their very being and trying to play mind games back at them guaranteed hostility if you were a stranger.

"_You speak our language?" _the woman said in surprise. Nobody bothered to learn the sentient tongues anymore not that there were many of them left with wizards around the centuries enslaving all if not at least ninety percent of all sentient life at one time or another in their history on this realm. The only way the veela customs, etiquette and history had escaped annihilation like the vampires was down to luck and some good hiding places. Poor clans of giants once rich in music and dance had been reduced to mere brutes by exterminations, infighting and inbreeding.

"_I speak all four dialects from the black forest to the desert plains,"_ Harry supplied handily. It was required for the things he did on the side for even more money and wizards did have literal talking books to help him along. _"But back to the question. Can you afford to pay the going rate?"_

"_I cannot,"_ she admitted, _"I had hoped you and I might come to some sort of agreement."_

"_I don't agree with prostitution,"_ Harry insisted, noticing some of the looks he was getting from the Slavic crowd. They had the most daily contact with the veela tribes that were the most numerous in terms of groups and numbers. To see someone with an English accent chat away in the black forest dialect to a veela was a novelty to them. _"Here take it," _Harry said, taking the woman's hand and slipping the potion up her sleeve taking care to have a glazed look to pretend to be compelled that allowed him to search her surface thoughts and indeed panicked thoughts about her daughter in squalid conditions, making his blood boil from their mistreatment. The Bulgarians were going to be introduced to a curse or two one of these days. _"Praise is to the maiden, may her voice call you home and greet you to the flames of the phoenix fire fields."_

"_Thank you, good sir," _she said with a grateful expression,_ "If you ever find yourself next to the Danube please when you get to the green fields colony ask for Dara," _the woman said. To be given her name was to show her intention to one day repay you for an act of kindness._ "What is your name?"_

The raven haired wizard was leery of handing her his full name. Fae and the seasonal courts could do strange things knowing how you pronounced your full name. It was fortunate his real mother followed ancient tradition and given him three middles name she never told his father.

"_It's Harrison James Potter, but call me Harry."_

"_My daughter, Eva, will learn your name I swear Harrison James Potter."_

"_I thank you for the honour." _Harry always loved the old traditions. It was a shame they carried little weight nowadays especially around here where their isolation could afford them, ignoring the courts of Winter and Summer.

"_Will you accept my invitation as payment?"_

"_Yes, I will take you up on your offer, Dara." _To accept an offer was considered polite courtesy despite the charity he was showing her. It was in their blood as descendants of faerie and denizens of the Nevernever to make deals and one sided exchanges only happened with the high Sidhe with the magic to keep foolish magi coming back to them. Harry really enjoyed taking advantage of all this maybe a bit too much._ "Take care of your daughter. I will not be watching the game, so give my people a good show."_

The woman didn't say goodbye and ran like the hounds of Hades were on her heels in her haste to get back to her daughter. The boy wizard tracked her for as long as he could see her in the bustling crowd until a new customer demanded his attentions, this one stupidly tried to barter with him and trying to use her heavy accent to embarrass him into selling cheaply to no avail.

Just because he didn't like to use legilimency didn't mean the crafty potions seller did not employ it when people took the piss with him.

That was what happened for the rest of the afternoon in general. He served potions to the crowd, debated/exchanged threats with some other stall owners and offered unofficial medical advice to a goblin with gout. He also swore the teen had attended to a Drakon, out of place from their usual desert world who was identified from the scaly looking markings around his eyes that he claimed was from a self-transfiguration accident. The dragon lookalike had requested something for a sore stomach talking for half an hour before not buying anything but thanking him for his aid and time Harry had taken out to talk to him. This kept on until everyone started to converge on the stadium near the front of the field for the start of the finals.

Harry started to pack up his items, smug that his rivals all seemed chock a block with leftover stock. He on the other hand had barely any pepper up potion, virility solution or his favourite prank potions the children loved to buy. His potent love potions were all sold to some giggly girls from Beauxbatons, who paid ten times what they should have when he added a slightly dangerous ingredient, raw dragon blood to add time to the effect it would have on people. His other stores were depleted nicely, selling double what they cost to produce and by the time the green eyed seventh year student finished the inventory, storing his signs into their slot in the deepest compartment while packing away his music system and rolling up his carpet before concluding with shrinking his trunk the weary but exhilarated wizard was nearly on his lonesome. All other sellers were moving towards the match or retreating to their designated resting area but it didn't matter to him either way. He had no interest in quidditch and his daily work had already been completed for today.

Instead of going to the game, where his father and famous little sister were probably with his younger still sisters, Harry draped his cloak completely over his person and tucked his ponytail to one side in front so the raven haired mage could pull his hood up on his cloak. His whole existence became like a cloud, dragged by the currents known as the stragglers heading to the merchant area set aside for sleeping in. He had been so happy nobody British (not that he knew many with his family situation) that he was acquainted with had done as he expected and stayed away from this area. One word from a nosy family friend and the game would be up.

He had no desire to let his father, Lord Potter, holder of the family blood magic to find out he was here without telling his Lordship. He didn't want to hear another rant on why his behaviour shamed his family name, especially with how hypocritical it sounded when they hadn't seen eye to eye for years and spoke to him only really during official occasions. Because, come on, one accident with a magically modified jet ski (that bleeding Sirius Black thought was the funniest thing since Monty Python) and they never stopped you hearing about it.

It was an easy jaunt across the bumpy grass field to where he would be sleeping tonight. It was near the undesirables or to be precise an area providing a physical border between the normal tents and them. It stank of discrimination, something his people would do or pressurise the I.C.W. into implementing at the last minute. Harry, being on his lonesome, let his prankster side take over and began taking down some of the simpler illusions hiding things such as smoking brick chimneys hanging from the cloth made tents or melting balcony windows into slag. Petty perhaps, but his views on sentient rights were pretty obvious with how he treated them in his limited interactions with them.

To the back of him, the crowd of the slumbering stadium awakening, indicating the starting of the game. In the mid-evening velvet coloured sky, Harry could make out specks of grown men riding on what was no more than brooms with flying charms attached. They were hovering above the stadium, just out of sight from the crowds by how the incline of the stadium walls leaned inwards. A magically amplified voice belted out an incomprehensible noise that reached out far enough for Harry to hear the arrogant bluster of someone with a sense of self-importance bigger than the Minister of Magic's sense of worth. Or, wait, this was a British event. It _was_ likely the arrogant sod talking was the Minister of Magic, the esteemed Cornelius Fudge.

He had met the guy once. His father, who probably was sitting beside the fat cream puff with his youngest sisters and, of course his famous sister, the Girl-Who-Lived, had introduced him to the man at a party when he was barely the height of his mother's knee. It barely took a minute to see that the rotund fatso was a fame hungry man-whore who hung around anyone with power. A World Cup Quidditch Final would have been impossible to resist.

Harry could never understand why anyone would enjoy playing quidditch when you had games like football to enjoy, an influence he owed to his absent mother. He was happy it was the off season right now, but when at the academy it was bloody hard to get any of the football results to find out how his beloved Tottenham Hotspur (an old girlfriend loved them) were doing. All he had outside of surreptitious visits to Hogsmeade, where he could slip out and using a fire place linked to the Floo network to catch the rare game on the sly, was an expensive magazine that had to travel through a convoluted system of delivery from a muggle P.O box to a raven of his. An amazing species of magical bird they were, for they had to safe crack into the post box each month to bring to his breakfast table.

Speaking of said raven, when was the last time he checked his P.O box? Harry scratched his head trying to remember while he played Houdini with his dad again, wondering how long he noted his son wasn't hanging around the manor.

Deciding that the situation wasn't worth bothering about anyway for the time being, Harry entered the circular encampment of merchants and passed by a number of wizarding tents that had magic that kept the owners of this camp away from here. They were far more elaborate, built like homes for families who travelled around selling their wares at the various wizarding events and fairs around the world. He saw rolled out gardens, corrugated iron fences and chimney stacks. Harry picked out wooden Japanese bathhouses, authentic looking stone Roman baths and for those a bit more wealthy storehouses for food or goods to sell.

The raven haired mage passed a French family having a barbecue of a cockatrice and some other strange smelling meat on one side and a Chinese style pagoda tent with an old man sorting through his medicine chest with various remedies. Harry was sure he would need a month of study to identify everything the man was tinkering with in glass vials. Western medicine and eastern medicine were still for the most part separated by secrecy (even with Mao chasing them into Tibet and beyond decades ago) and mistrust and they had cures one side did that the other didn't and so on.

He kept up his trip around the world until he was near the back end of the camp hugging the forest until he came to a clearing under a large ancient tree that had been carved with symbols to create the ward line. Here controlled magic was pulsing through the organism like a computer processor that kept the creatures that may dwell in the forest far away from him like exiled earthbound Fae or perhaps even evil spirits. Harry could spy a camp just inside the tree line that had to be where the veela who weren't performing at the event were sleeping for the night. The shadows of the trees hid their numbers, their type of dwelling and anything that might give a horny wizard an advantage if he so chose to come in during the night and help himself to a straggler like, say, a child or one that was physically weakened since he knew there was an outbreak of blue shade fever.

Harry wished he had just given that woman his entire stock. Sometimes his greed got the better of him.

The mage drew his wand from within his left sleeve and muttered a number of spells. Motes of light burst out from the tip as he weaved it like a conductor's baton weaving common protection spells all campers should know according to 'The Great Outdoors And What Could Devour You' and adding a couple of security spells against thieves or woe be his misfortune rapists with extreme prejudice. Harry engorged his trunk and weaved a spell that shrunk his cloak as he pulled the clasp off to let it pool to his knees where it continued to become smaller until what he picked up was nothing but a handkerchief he tucked into his jean's back pocket.

Harry rubbed some imaginary lint off his black turtle-neck sweater collar and checked that a silver chain long enough to dangle from his bellybutton was still in place. On the end was a purple crystal with a red substance like blood inside. According to his family, the Potter side that is with links to Peverell the one who possessed the so called third hallow, the mighty invisibility cloak that never dimmed for a millennium, this red substance was phoenix fire in liquid form. A long nearly forgotten family myth spoke of a phoenix turned into flame by a forbidden ritual that a Peverell came across long ago and bottled in this mystery crystal that so far resisted all magical means of opening it. The early Potters, before signet rings were used, wore it to identify their head of house and before they even became known as clan Potter, four hundred years later it brought them luck in their tribal disputes in Wales. That was until his great grandfather put it into storage where it laid unattended until his first year when he felt it almost calling out to him. It had been his first trip to his family vault with his folks when he was four and his father did the traditional ceremony of allowing each son or daughter of school age to take an item from the vault as a keepsake or a reminder of where they came from.

The ancient item despite its majesty clashed with his navy blue denim jacket that was covered from collar to bottom in badges. All of them were muggle unless in a place saturated by magic like the naked chick around his collar that suggestively wiggled her boobs or the pumpkin juice company's pumpkin that bounced up and down like a spring. An on-going collection, he was upset to say he could not increase since they weren't selling any at the stands at the world cup.

This discontent carried in the grumbled incantation he made that channelled red fire from his wand tip. With a continuous stirring motion he made the fire become spiral shaped like a fiery flying snake in mid-air that upon being discharged from his wand hit the soft grass like a stone. It created a camp fire like someone had doused the soft grass with napalm that needed no wood or fuel to keep burning brightly. There he sat down comfortably and warmed his hands to wait for the stars to come out or for the game to end.

Time passed slowly and the sky soon became blacker than the heart of a Dementor. The stars started to sparkle and the roar of the crowds became background noise like audio for the visual effects of the stars he was so used to sleeping under. He lay down after a while, the soft grasses silky like well rough silk where from he never moved from for several hours thinking about such mundane things like what he would do about the celebrations. Should he go and mingle with the winners afterwards? Or should he consider just grabbing a meal from the stands that would pop up to serve the winners? He even entertained the idea of revealing to his father he had escaped the manor he was meant to be in for extra classes this summer to enjoy life until the absurdity of the idea made him snort. He pondered his course of action for the evening alongside his potion stocks, what homework he needed to finish and occasionally like all teenage men tended to what the veela inside that hidden camp were up to. The darker sky hid what little he could make out about their activities to even the smoke from their fires.

Silently with no need for an oral invitation several other campers with no ill intent to set off his wards gathered and took refuge next to his fire. Some added their magic to the fire while others did what they wanted. Some men or women (it was hard to tell since he was lying down) gave their thanks but kept their distance most probably due to his exposed wand sheathed in a shoulder mounted holster on his left forearm that, according to the old ways, signified a man who was not in the mood for idle conversation. He heard the rattling sound of dice, the chuckles of old men playing cards and the soft reassuring voices of women tending to small children.

It didn't matter to him. Harry knew the unspoken law that a camp-site not specifically warded to keep out people meant an open invitation was given to those who sought shelter where they could not create it themselves. Harry was a money grabbing hustler with a side of devilry in his transactions he wouldn't lie about that but the teen did genuinely care about people like this. Back in Europe with no understanding of the continental languages besides French at first (due to necessity and of course English) many had reached out to him as he had travelled during the summer and winter months with the aid of his friends. Many called themselves gypsies, soothsayers and other foreign to the British titles other than wizards. They had freely shown their ways to him without deceit or price to pay and since then he gave the same kindness to people down on their luck like him in return.

Of course he owed those people for taking him in when he wasn't at school or journeying around the Nevernever and some even admit loving the scamp. The day his father did a horrible deed that even now the boy tried to suppress. His father's decision to be a distant father to anyone other than his daughters and his bastardly ways driving mother away… But if only his family…

Those thoughts made him stand up on all fours hunched like a silverback, spooking the crowd of strangers around him. Some had gone for wands while mothers tried to look as small as possible. He spotted a dryad vanishing into the ward tree for safety that with all that controlled energy fused into it must have been like going for a swim in Fiendfyre. He made the universal symbol of peace with his wand. The way he went about it was, by how Harry slowly and deliberately clipped the extra leather clasp around his wand to make it harder to draw, made the tension filled atmosphere drift away.

He hated entertaining those thoughts. The wounds that had not scabbed over properly that itched horribly in his head of the betrayal they reminded him of. His family, the distance they created both figuratively and literally by being a useless dad or a mum that left with no real explanation albeit he knew where she was. The poison that abandonment caused bled deeper by the second and little was there to hold it back and Harry was positive it would stay until he graduated and he wouldn't return to this country full time. Too much of his world revolved outside one pathetic island nation that had long lost its lustre.

"Excuse me," a soft voice asked hesitantly. Harry jumped in surprise and searched around the camp ground until it repeated itself and traced the sound a little lower of his eye line to a small blonde child. She was a beautiful child; lithe, vulnerable looking and she had these big old blue eyes that made his heart melt with her waif like clothing. The little girl was clearly malnourished, all sharp angles and nearly all skin and bones.

"Can I help you?" he asked carefully, searching for a mother or a parent that was watching her. He found no concerned mothers or a scolding father hurrying to pull her away from the intimidating man. The girl did create an atmosphere about her like one would feel from a treasured pet you just wanted to pat on the head.

The girl contemplated her answer. She had her nose scrunched up in concentration and was generating attention from the other figures around the fire, which worried him since most of it was from men or cloaked figures that were very obviously males. Some women were violently using means to draw some attention from this little girl but not every man was attached to a ball and chain. One particularly filthy specimen of something pretending he hoped to be a man seemed to be edging closer to her by the minute. In all this made him wonder why they were all so interested in a blonde haired, blue eyed childlike she was a veela or…

Harry upon figuring out what race she was most likely to be drew his wand and created a gunshot sound from his wand. Everyone tensed and the little girl shrank and covered her head with her hands.

"You are safe," Harry said soothingly in an attempt to appease the girl. He barked out a charm to ensure privacy but didn't put the wand away to warn off the people enthralled by the girl's quite weak charms. Compared to the veela from before, the young girl couldn't control any of her allure, which was why they never left the colonies until they could. "Now what do you want?"

"I don't speak English very well," the girl admitted in poor hesitant English. But, hey, she had been better than half the buyers in the market.

"_Is this better?"_ he asked in the same dialect he used for the woman earlier. The shy girl nodded demurely. He patted the ground next to him until he realised his mistake and just patted the ground a little away from him. His mistake you might ask? He had suggested to an allure generating being which was legendary for proximity increasing the potency of their allure to sit next to a vulnerable magi. There were no exceptions no matter how immature the fire woman was. The girl took the spot on the grass never taking her eyes off his wand.

"_Much better, sir,"_ she replied finally upon sitting down and hugging her knees. Harry got a good look at just how thin she was, seeing her ribs poke through the tattered cloth she called a dress and feeling pity for her he took out a muggle chocolate bar from his breast pocket and offered it to her.

"_Chocolate,"_ he said with some cheer, _"You must be hungry."_ She eyed the foil wrapped bar then in a move that stunned how quick it had happened the girl had snatched it, unwrapped and began to devour the confectionery like a pack of lions would a downed zebra. Harry waited patiently for her to finish glaring at all of the campers who continued to stare at her like a piece of meat as she dropped her guard to sate her hunger.

These people were good people but they were wizards first and wizards had this barbaric universal belief going back centuries that all things considered sub-human species in their eyes to be worth nothing. She was also emitting an allure that anyone could sense and apart from the infancy of its potency, most weak willed men would still stoop to the low of raping a child or even worse use her as a hostage to get her very maternal mother to take the child's place.

"_Thank you,"_ the girl said finally, offering him the rubbish left behind. Harry smirked and removed it all with a deliberate flourish of his stick.

"_So what did you want anyway?"_

"_My mother told me about you."_

Harry didn't know many veela so he took a shot in the dark about her identity._ "Was her name, Dara?"_ If this was the case, how did Dara help this girl that had to be her only daughter, Eva, find him here out among all these people? Where he was not even registered (at least officially) in the merchant guild camp? It was a little disconcerting since Eva, the child veela had never laid eyes on him before but he was more concerned at why she was taking such a risk coming out into the open like this. He especially wondered why a woman like Eva from an incredibly maternal race was not being straight with him about her reasons for coming here.

"_That is my mother,"_ she replied, identifying herself as her child Eva. With the time needed for the medication to take effect, this was consistent and made her story sound just as truthful as possible. The potion dried up the fluid in the lungs and converted it into moisture for her lungs instead and her fluctuating temperature would be stabilised as soon as it took its part in the process of removing the fluid from her lungs.

"_How did you find me and why please are you here?"_ Harry insisted, resisting the ever so tempting urge to use legilimency on this girl. He tilted his glasses comically in an attempt to make her laugh and succeeded when she made a sound like a finely tuned piano but her expression was more sombre.

"_Mama told me she tried to use her Parousia on you and failed. The traces of it are still clinging to your aura." _Learning to cleanse his aura of veela's power was added to his 'to do list' and someone, or rather his contacts in the veela community, had conveniently forgotten to mention that titbit. He had no idea lingering traces of a veela's Parousia or Presence as it translated in Greek could be seen by anyone apart from a wizard using the Sight that slowly drove a wizard mad if you overdid it._ "I just wanted to thank you for saving me," _she added hesitantly, bowing her head. _"So thank you sir for your kindness."_

"_You're very welcome,"_ Harry said, taking the compliment well. It was awfully self-satisfying to get one when he normally never heard about his buyer's health after selling the medicine to them. _"Is that all, Eva?"_ he faltered when she showed off a look of surprise that made her look like a dumb blonde when he used her name, _"Your mother proudly told me your name."_

"_But veela don't tell humans their daughters' names,"_ she mumbled worriedly before suddenly as if something miraculous had come to her she beamed at him and hugged him out of the blue.

Harry stiffened at being embraced. Very few these days was allowed to get that close for a very long time. Insecurities were rife making him very harsh and his acquaintances had not been very successful in removing that habit. His eyes travelled everywhere but the girl who was drawing a lot of attention to herself from the watching people enjoying his fire, including the stadium where smoke was gathering high in the sky near the stadium and fire was burning.

A fire, a pretty bad one had broken out near the stadium where the British tents were standing. Somebody had to have erected a silencing field, a social faux pas since it was expected in camping etiquette that only the creator of the camp-site could adjust or erect new wards. It was plainly obvious since no screaming or rampaging crowds that were charging towards them for the safety of the woods was audible to his ears in this quiet camp. Harry used the counter charm, the invisible ward shattered like a football smashing through a window and the screams you would expect from a mob of fleeing spectators that were doing their best to break the world record for the most people acting like headless chickens swiftly followed. The sounds of a burgeoning roaring fire from the lit up field of burning tents fought a valiant battle against the noise of his conjured flame.

His first thought was of the girl hugging him. She seemed to tremble suddenly and grab onto him and with her condition he was amazed to see that the vaunted veela super strength, a product of needing the extra muscle when they took their 'Soma,' state or the veela bird girlie thing. They needed it in order to fly and she was not affected by her dilapidated condition. He took one calculating look at the crowd approaching and made a decision with their course heading to the veela camp within the forest's boundaries.

He pointed his wand, thirteen inches, made from the ancient tree Yggdrasil and fashioned with a basilisk optic nerve core blended with a drop of his own to focus it. He made a come hither motion ferociously that made the fire from the camp fire leap up like it was the interior of an erupting volcano. The fire began to spin counter clockwise and made a ring of fire around the camp that blocked off the immediate route to both camp-sites. He pointed to his invisibility cloak, the only thing belonging to his family his father had willingly gave him that wasn't due to tradition in his pocket and enlarged it to the normal size.

"_Please wear my cloak and stay close to me,"_ Harry requested, ignoring the frightened masses of the camp fire that were looking at him with ambivalent looks depending on who you were looking at. From disbelief from some of the women that scared people were being shut off from safety to fear from the children from the heat of the orange flame. The girl continued to shiver, but a reassuring hand on her shoulder had her calm down. _"We're going to your camp. If I know trouble, it usually leads back to your people no matter if they were behaving or not."_ He opened a hole in the flames and grabbed her delicate invisible hand. _"Don't let go of my hand,"_ he demanded gently, _"As long as I am alive, you will not be harmed."_

Not totally believing his own words, Harrison James Potter was on his way.

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(Terms provided unofficially by PhanatasmagoricBlade so love him and read his neglected fic not being repeated)

(Greek)

Floga-flame

Soma-body

Parousia-presence

A/N Just for future reference guys ^^


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter: My Way

"Industrial Magic"

By Heliosion

Chapter 2: Saving the Babes before the Battle

Disclaimer: I own nothing of this damn fine series of books well until J.K Rowling went insane after her first few hundred million dollars and started writing crap after The Order Of The Phoenix because she had so little time left to write with all that money she had to count but hell what can you do? If life gives you lemons make lemonade and that's what I'm going to do with this fic.

Oh yeah for everybody who is not totally switched on _italics _mean either thinking or talking in any other language but English. I will be sure to tell you if they are doing either okay. I can't be assed to accent the English or whatever so live with it!

Oh yeah jbern I love you so I'm going to thank him for inventing spell chaining which for the sake of this fic I shall call the flicker technique and Penelope Clearwater as a journalist. He told me I could use them if I acknowledged the man for inventing them first.

Mind that some concepts and characters from the Dresden Files are also taken. No main characters but minor characters and their magical ways will also see some action.

This starts in year four (Triwizard) so expect a lot of history details thrown about. This is my world so thank you.

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Now, a forest was not one of his favourite places to charge into for many reasons. Around the entire planet where forests grew, from the pine tree havens in the frozen north to the gigantic redwoods of the Amazon rainforest, these increasingly shrinking bits of greenery were the last true havens of the earthbound Fae and banished evil spirits; if you ignored the places that held natural passages into the Nevernever.

Wizards at the dawn of the era of secrecy had originally, with their magical wards and imprisoning spells to preserve their newfound world, banished the weakest of those beings into these lands. There they had lain mostly undisturbed and confronted by man, muggle or wizard until industrialisation caused by the former during the start of the Industrial Revolution. This, when the ignorant hard working humans whom gnawed even greater into these wooded havens, unwittingly managed to, at last, drive away any of the lingering beings too stubborn to leave this plain for their original homes in the Nevernever, leaving behind just the strong entities willing or perhaps just far too stubborn to endure the ache caused by pollution laced with iron.

That, of course, here in their turf, their hunting grounds after being driven out (immortal Fae have long memories believe it or not) made his mere presence_ very_ unwelcome even from the most civil of sentient beings such as nymphs or forest trolls. It was exactly as the old saying went, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' only with a vengeance.

In this darkened forest, further blackened by the night sky, his visibility was zero inside a forest filled with many otherworldly monsters just wanting to kill him… and all he had was the tiny spark of light floating from his wand tip. Naturally, he was apprehensive (okay with the child in tow bloody terrified) of every shadow that caught the corner of his eye, hated tripping over what felt like every single uprooted root and lost a minute of life each time he was startled by a bang or other explosive sound. He presumed the sounds were the fire from the World Cup touching potions or materials forged by alchemy discharging from contact with extreme heat. He dared not contemplate the idea of a battle between magi.

But, all that in the short term, it didn't… no he corrected it _could not_ matter. The warm tiny hand that he gently as possible led to the safety of the camouflaged camp just ahead kept him moving. The shivering little fingers smooth as silk that hampered his progress bolstered his determination, soldered his will to make sure this person, this sentient being he had extended the life to only a few hours ago would be safe.

This tiny frail creature was depending on him. It bolstered his resolve perpetual to how deep his fear ran, (strong but could've been worse without his occlumency dampening his emotions) as he alone ran into this wild forest filled with Gaia knows what. This gaping void far more frightening than some of the darker corridors of the Nevernever he had strolled into laid siege to his buckling courage. However, it was the warmth of his heart in knowing this girl who might otherwise could have caught up in the maelstrom of chaos and killed or worse raped lightened his heavy soul. Those dark thoughts alone had made him tighten his hold on his wand.

"_Don't worry,"_ Harry found himself saying over and over, fusing magical power to make a Word each time to assure the girl and hypnotise himself into believing it. _"Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry Eva,"_ Harry took in a fat lungful of air and kept lancing the space ahead of him with his foci. _"Don't worry."_

The girl herself had said nothing since they fled into the relative safety of the wilds. The poor girl had poured her trust in a mage, of all people, a move most of her race would call foolhardy and desperate. A wizard, if they followed the tainted history between the two races, would persecute her if he were an arrogant pureblood like she was a mongrel, and yet the girl had personally came to see him. To thank him for the potion exchanged for a right to visit a place he might never visit.

Harry Potter felt that this was another foray into proving with actions rather than words with his beliefs that everything and everyone on this planet was born equal. This tiny girl with those small hands was just one more doorway into that world… A world where his damn family…

"_They are approaching, sir,"_ the girl Eva spoke at last. Harry stopped his fast paced walk stumbling halfway over a tree root he would other would have missed if he had continued moving.

The would be seventh year student waved his wand spinning it with a flourish, catching the tiny spark upon his wand tip and flung it into the air. The spark ignited with a burst and showering over the duo a circle of golden light shone around the twosome and illuminated the darkness around them like a powerful halogen bulb. He pulled off the cloak but left it on her shivering body. If there was anything hostile here Harry intended to be the target. Lost in his desire to protect he felt the little hand shiver and absently applied a warming charm to ease the growing chill.

"Come out now," Harry demanded, turning his head to look around three hundred and sixty degrees into the black. With nothing to inform him that the raven haired male was being listened to he shifted languages, _"I come in peace." _Harry flourished his wand holding hand around his circle of shining light. He really hoped he was far enough inside the forest so nobody untoward from the rioters could see it._ "This magic is only here because it is a spell that I cannot use while moving. The fire from the stadium will drive the magi here. I come to return your child, Dara of the green fields." _Harry waited for a response until he groaned impatiently at their further refusal to speak to him and roared at the top of his lungs. The sheer force behind his next demand actually managed to make a presence on the physical world by distorting the air around him, more Words in action. _"I am Harrison James Potter and I demand I be heard if you be veela!"_ He took in a deep breath then bit his lip and shouted out again on impulse knowing what he would say next could potentially kill him while he was this disadvantaged. _"If you be not a veela but a native of this forest free or bound otherwise to its borders be forewarned for I have travelled into the eternal of the Nevernever from whence you originated and be very aware I have survived enough encounters among your free kin to be dubbed a destroyer like magi before the Unseelie accords stones had even been quarried."_

Harry then played the waiting game with the sound effects of the fire and what he thought sounded like spell fire in the background but prayed again it was his paranoia playing tricks on him. The little girl had started to cling to his leg and the teen obeyed her allure to comfort her by running his hand through her silky locks in a gesture meant to solely console the distraught being. If the situation was a little less chaotic Harry was positive he would've obeyed his desire to sing an Aria to reassure the little girl.

"_They are here but they do not trust you,"_ Eva declared, muffling most of it with her face buried into his side, _"I should take the cloak off."_

Powerful brotherly instincts took hold of Harry and he instinctively grabbed the collar of the ancient invisibility cloak and refused to let it drop. The little veela child tried to protest but the wizard cut her off by violently shaking his head and staring deeply into her eyes. She flinched from the green defiant stare.

"_They can see you are here. You told me your people can see Parousia and you have soaked me in it Eva. They know you are here without the damned cloak on because I know for a fact!"_ He stalled his explanation after bellowing out the last word and then added, _"They can sense you but they do not trust me. Get Dara out here."_

"_Our keepers are not nice sir. They might not listen to a mage,"_ the girl stated, tugging at the cloak, but he held firm.

"_That cloak is stopping anyone from easily spotting you from the outside so keep it on please,"_ Harry requested, _"The darkness is making it hard to see if anyone followed us in here especially one of my kind and I will not risk me being stunned and you being dragged away if who you sense are not your clans-women."_

"_Thank you, sir," _the girl softly thanked, grabbing his hand and effortlessly disarming him to allow the cloak to fall._ "I will never forget for the rest of my life that some magi are good men." _The little girl let him go and Harry instantly reached for the bruised appendage and pulled up his sleeve to examine it and hissed. The girl had left the beginnings of a horrific bruise by sheer accident. No wonder she allowed him to manhandle her. Harry grimaced at forgetting about that strength that loaned them their fabled stamina between the sheets and the ability to soar in the sky._ "I needed you to let go," _she whispered in apology, presenting his silvery cloak to him and then kissing his wound. "I am sorry," she said in hesitant English this time stepping forward and raising her arms up in the universal sign for peace. _"Mother, I have come back! The land the humans have claimed is ablaze! The man who gave you my potion has brought me to safety and to warn us all of their arrival in these woods. We must flee!"_

Harry was ever the perfect sentinel while the girl stated her case. His cloak was shrunk and put back in his pocket. His wand had then carefully weaved invisible trails of energy forming detection spells while his eyes were watching everywhere a shadow existed for traces of the girl's people. The land did not stir not even a leaf made a sound to be jumpy about nor did the swish of wings or did any light from green fire emanate from anywhere. He was starting to doubt they were any veela and panicking about who the bastards the girl sensed could actually be until he was too stiff and worried to erode his instinct to employ the Sight in such a very active spiritual area and so he did.

He forced his magic to channel into the seldom used areas of his eyes, guiding it with focus and intent to command. He felt heaviness, sort of like a weight at the back of his eyes like Harrison was prying a rusty steel door open. It was a place where the normal field of colours available of the world seemed to start bleeding together like paint being mixed. His whole world perception shifted momentarily afterwards, the worlds of what could be seen and what laid hidden from everyday life closing together into one and he was left in the world of the Sight.

The Sight was like an orange. You peeled back the skin to see what was hidden inside. On the magical spectrum, wizards could only see the level any muggle could. The Sight was a means of bypassing this. It saw through disillusionment charms, invisibility cloaks and well anything. By looking further in, giving yourself deeper to the ancient art you could see half formed ghosts who all seemed to have had violent ends. You could still see further, burrowing deeper beneath the underneath of the very world. A person could see Fae hiding in their magnificent layers of illusions and light up the entire world that nobody could usually observe in brilliant spectrums of light. It was so effective you could spot magical trails left behind like snails by powerful beings like Dumbledore's right down to the brief magical flashes like a dying fire squibs made. It was a necessary skill to wander the Nevernever when ageless predators could stalk you without any effort.

Harry looked behind him and found people were coming their way, refugees hopefully but more likely arrogant raping monsters considering how deep they were entering this potential death-trap and judging from distant sparks further ahead indicating wands were being deployed. A battle was in progress? Someone was actually fighting in the world cup? Fuck for once paranoia wasn't being bloody overly cautious! Was his family involved somehow? Or maybe perhaps his imagination was running away with him and this was all a small time argument between idiots whose antics triggered the fire?

While muttering about bloody opportunistic raiders, arrogant grudge holding holdouts of Grindelwald's former regime and worse for Harry something viler (wizards were generally an unpleasant lot if you were a pureblood or lived long enough to be corrupted by their inherent arrogance), he caught sight of something high up in the trees. With what appeared to be something humanoid glowing green, lots of them and with wings were watching him. The little girl glowed the same way as the beings up in the canopy.

"_I can see you,"_ Harry said in a deadpan, closing his Sight when upon coming across a mutilated ghost. That was the drawback to this amazing power. What you saw stayed with you until the bitter end. It was burned into your mind and overuse could potentially drive you mad. No memory charm could erase it or any potion. It was said even a lobotomy did not take away what a person saw.

"_How could you have?"_ the girl said curiously then upon examining him scrunched her pretty face and kicked him in the shin. _"I must ask you never to use the thing you magi dare call the Sight in front of me again."_ When Harry nodded his agreement at her peculiar behaviour, the moods that constantly changed, he flicked his wand and the light circle ascended to illuminate the tops of the tree.

On the treetops they waited in their Soma or veela bird manifestations. They had beautiful silvery winged arms and cast comparisons with harpies with their slightly hunched backs and vicious looking beaks. Their white translucent skin gave off an eerie glow that made Harry's circle of light revealing the flock bestow a sort of divine radiance to their presence. They glittered so beautifully his breath hitched far more than their allure could ever hope to do.

Harry barely had the time to move before one of them swooped down and pinned him down by the wand hand. Harry gasped on impact with the forest floor, his startled companion quickly recovered enough and made this sharp squawking sound Harry had read from a book he had _borrowed_ from a guy who had went back on a deal talking about the veela race's history, the French masterpiece called 'The Beautiful Revolt'. It claimed these bird noises were a remnant of what the veela race called the 'dark times' or 'the age before enslavement' where their language still used bird calls as well as actual words until the breeders (rapist human scum) methodically squashed it because it could give the poor beings a means of stirring up revolt. The tome had been vague about their remaining function, but Harry was sure Eva had just called out this extremely strong girl who had a vice grip on his arm and a talon from her lithe feet around his vulnerable neck in a _possessive_ manner. Like, for example a wild veela woman would use when making a claim on a potential _mate_.

That information reminded him of a chapter further in the book about enraged veela killing children for defying them. That could not come to pass. So, despite the promise of death, Harry gathered his will, found his centre to draw the ambient energy around him, weaved his intent to make his magic do what he desired and opened his free palm. The magical energy travelled down his arm flowing as smoothly as his breath and guided by his will shaped into the final product by an application of his intent. This was old magic, Sorcery, the True magic (evocation to be exact) with intense mental training that took years to learn before they could channel even the simplest of magic. It was damn near an age before the guidance of foci such as the staff before the wand came along with the intricacy to help harness their magic in more delicate manners.

The veela woman sensed the heat and fled from the sudden orange flash from the fireball flaring in a beautiful orange. Harry picked himself up with an agility borne of other encounters, magic known as Augmentation greatly increasing his physical parameters and a mentor's patient instruction in combat, waved his wand and a silver plume erupted into the sky before exploding like a firework to shower them in an all-encompassing barrier.

"_Please stop this sir,"_ the girl veela cried out, grabbing his wand hand again but this time Harry flung her aside gently with an invisible force created by a swipe of his hand formed by his Sorcery repelling her gently by interaction with her fiery veela aura. It didn't deter her much showing there was steel in her will. _"They just don't understand you mean no harm. They think you have enthralled me with dark magic to call them all here to be captured again."_

"_I will not let your people harm you because you made that call at them." _The girl was close enough that he could spot her horrible attempt at hiding her blush for being found out._ "I appreciate the interest, but…"_

Harry left it there to spare the girls blushes, gathered his wits and forged another fireball from his palm this time holding it to reveal the midnight coloured blood writing gathered on his palm. It looked like bile was pumping where his blood was, a side effect of something hampering his system. It was a memory he preferred to forget and kept it locked up in the dark corners of his soul unless the circumstances demanded its return, such was the complicated way of occlumency.

"_Evocation?"_ one of the veela in the trees screeched in fear, which the tribeswomen started chattering as if to convene and check if the woman's guess was accurate. Evocation was an uneven art designed almost solely on quick uncontrollable outbursts of magic sort of like accidental magic but more guided. Some would dub it wild magic, an art, magic in wizards practised sparingly anymore without a focus because of the convenience of wands that could do all the work for them and everyone in the magical world that mattered carried one. Harry liked to call it dime store magic for how simplistic its applications were outside of a fight and more than once it had saved him when going for a sword or wand would've meant having his head cleaved off by an angry goblin.

"_Do not make me use this!"_ Harry shouted his green eyes had no doubt turned black from use of the ancient arts that could have been confused as a side effect of having blood writing scrawled all over him. His fingertips on both hands had turned the colour of hard onyx and the free hand was flexing in a random way like he had a twitch. What they were really doing was weaving a word into place made into a tangible flow by his will and focus coming together as one. His hand was the ink and the air saturated by his magic, a canvass in which to write. It could oh so easily be mistaken for thaumathurgy and while it was similar to the ritualistic practice what he was doing was something that couldn't hold that title as it was also rather haphazard compared to the precise nature of thaumathurgy. _"I will not be attacked when I have no quarrel with you veela. Don't test me please, just come down here and we can talk about this. I would also like to see for myself this child being returned to her mother in person."_

Amazingly Eva had managed to retain her human form in all of this. Veela usually reverted when they came under duress or the risk of being harmed was exponential. Despite this silvery barrier that was flimsy as hell against anything but fire (not that he intended to tell the veela that) Harry was increasingly concerned by the sounds of battle getting ever closer to their position.

Seeing no other option whilst swallowing his fear, Harry put his wand away and finished the sentence his magic was constructing and an application of his intent brought its meaning into being. The complete sentence manifested in spindly bronze coloured Norse runes around his hand. The symbols vanished and his spell matrix was complete triggering the compulsion it created.

The veela bolted in retreat on command with Harry alone grabbing Eva and making her remain with him. He tapped his finger on her forehead and dispelled his powerful magic. She had a glaze to her pretty eyes that faded away once the forces behind the spell was removed. She went timid and actually had a bit of fear to her body language.

"_What did you do?"_ she asked quietly.

"_In layman's terms, I used runemancy or the ability to make words with intent. It is an infinitely complex and difficult form of magic with no limits and a near lost art giving words power and tangibility in the free world."_ He waited for her to process this vague answer shaking his head when all she could do was look cute with her confusion and he preferred it to the fear from before. The mage did get a bit passionate on that subject. Resisting the urge to gentle tease, Harry watched the rustling of the trees for signs of his compulsion leading the women away, confirming they were actually there for certain and then without warning pulled the little veela into a fireman's lift that made her squeak in surprise. _"You don't need to worry about me doing that again. I dislike forcing a compulsion on them but we need to get to your camp and runemancy is nearly forgotten this far west except by some of the old families anyway. So let's go already!"_ She made another squeak, but fell flat as he took off at full speed, removing his light circle on the way and shattering his barrier like it was a bubble that it clung to him (his aura if you want to get technical) for a moment before dissipating. On a couple of strong rotund tree trunks he threw up some misdirection spells, a comical illusion to make someone not see a massive beech tree that he transfigured to grow spear sharp branches at the average eye level and mage repelling charms that had very little effect compared to their muggle repelling charm originators but could disrupt someone's concentration if they were smart enough to expect his traps.

Harry took no time to examine his work to his usual stringent standards and his brisk pace had him inside the boundaries of the camp faster than he anticipated. Sometimes that training in tracking and hunting really came in handy.

The veela camp was something a shanty town would call a dump. It wasn't even a clearing like the merchant camp. All was here between a few trees giving them barely enough room to swing a cat around were just a few ripped white tents with no magical enhancements to them. They fluttered feebly in the wind which was an obvious clue to their pathetic state and some had holes in them patched poorly with whatever they must have had on hand. It was blatant indication of how well their current employers treated them with how simple repairing charms were. A small smouldering fire burned in the centre of a circle formation where smaller tents presumably for their children were stationed.

As Harry had read about them on his first glance of the encampment (and some personal experiences of course), the veela were indeed very protective of their young even to the point about sacrificing their own comfort for the sake of them. He instantly recast his magical circle lighting spell and let the girl on his back stand on her own power.

"_Did you really have to do that sir?"_ Eva said meekly, averting her eyes and staring at her feet.

Harry gave her an indulgent chuckle at her cuteness. _"I think you enjoyed it, but where could your mother be?"_

"_I am right here,"_ Dara stated to the side of him. Being blind-sided even with the lights made Harry jump and reach for his wand but his charge flew past him and dived into her mother's arms.

"_Mama!"_ Eva mouthed repeatedly into her mother's breast. The little girl started crying and talking incoherently while her mother indulged her, stroking her hair and cooing soft sounds to her little charge. It warmed the soul to see such a wonderful reunion.

"_It is okay my little darling,"_ she crooned, _"Mama is here; mama is here, my beautiful firefly. I told you not to wander off, but I am glad you made your way back all safe and sound."_ Eva gave him a smouldering, meaningful stare of gratitude and then resumed her primary mission to sooth her daughter's tears.

Though Harry was enjoying their reunion he was all too aware that the band of veela was watching him relentlessly all poised for that imagined moment of betrayal where he would turn his symbol of domination i.e. his very visible wand on them. All around him shadows started moving carefully forwards and the wizard entered a stance to indicate to any predator he was not going to go down without taking half of this forest with him.

"_The mage brought me here at the risk to his life. He even draped me in an invisibility cloak and everything,"_ the beautiful child mumbled when she rested her head upon her crouching mother's shoulder.

"_Oh, did he now?"_ the mother indulged, raising her voice slightly for anyone around the trio that might not have picked that up, _"A mage allowed you to touch something as valuable and precious as an invisibility cloak?"_

"_He used magic of the old world like the ones you showed me in that book we used to read um…"_

"_Do you mean the Tales of Beedle the Bard?"_ Harry suggested as friendly as one could with his life on the line, remembering the book that apart from a few false tales wizards had made up spoke of moral lessons based on older more gruesome fairy stories. It was if you looked between the lines about wizards running around the Nevernever in the old days before warring with the natives and the fall of Atlantis brought their interests crashing down to more humble endeavours. It was the most published children's book in the world and around far longer than the current divisions that existed in the magical world with distribution to match and since durability magic could be traced back to the Roman Empire some copies could be centuries old before they started to degrade. On that note, his copy was celebrating its four hundred years old birthday some time this decade.

"_Yes, that is what it was exactly. Did your mother read them to you?"_

Harry winced at the mention of his deceased mother but smiled through it. _"I never really knew my mother," _he corrected that while a white lie really as she was living but it was a bitter memory but managed it as kindly as he could. Harry hurried his next words when the little girl froze._ "But, I read them on my own and then to my little sisters. But Dara,"_ he stated, ascending his circle of light again. He sighed as the veela in their bird forms fell for the same mistake as before when they were exposed hiding in the trees. They flew back into the shadows like young vampires first touching sunlight but he made his point_. "I assume since you are the one to greet me that you are the Chieftainess of this tribe. Where are your owners…?" _He was quick to rectify his error._ "I mean employers sorry."_

"_They are probably at the stadium with our other sisters."_

"_It's on fire right now,"_ he declared flatly, _"I don't know how or why but I did see signs of battle. I did write it off first as looters or some of the dark wizards who lost the great wizard war with Dumbledore and the British mage army nursing a grudge but the fire shouldn't have spread so quickly. This is the work of a dangerous enemy purposively wreaking havoc for some nefarious purpose and I know it's almost certain that some have designs upon your tribe so I am asking you to pack up and leave."_

"_Where would you have us go?"_ Dara stated, waving her elegant arm round their ramshackle camp. _"Our masters have the portkeys home and even then some of my sisters want to make a break for it."_ The woman looked away from him in shame, a look that instilled more a reaction than her puppy dog eyes when she tried to swindle him out of a potion. _"We owe them a large debt for a bad harvest back home. They…"_ She stopped again and plugged the ears of her eavesdropping daughter that was still embracing her. _"Own our colony."_

"Call your tribe down and get them to pack your camp up. I have a plan." The English was deliberate and quick. The woman took note of his seriousness and made a flare signal with her green fire. The tribe all fell down and started packing up their camp. "She can go help. Some of this of what I am going to tell you is classified information sealed by several privacy oaths and I can only tell the leaders until you get there but I swear on my magic," he sped up at the way she suddenly became guarded, "That I am not leading you to enslavement or entrapping you in anyway. So mote it be." His magic made him burn like the inside of a sun as the oath was enforced.

"_Go and help your cousins,"_ Dara requested softly. The woman still acted stiff around him, but there was good reason to. Wizards were notorious liars that exacerbated their poor status within the Nevernever where oaths were kept fanatically. Ironic when he bound his magic to keeping an oath she still looked at him like he had just promised not to shoot her and cocked the shotgun the moment her back was turned. Being a traveller for a long time had enforced a moral code that had held up so far in his dealings with them.

"_Yes, mama,"_ Eva said quietly. She let go of her mother and before leaving surprised Harry by hugging his arm and taking off to help dismantle a tent.

"_My daughter holds much affection for you already,"_ Dara tried to joke despite the severity of the situation. The raven haired mage tried to start what needed to be said next but was derailed by the woman suddenly embracing him herself and pouring her entire aura into the embrace.

"Stick to English okay," Harry requested, "I will speak as slowly as I can. Now can I draw my wand?"

"What do you need it for?" she asked poorly hiding her trepidation.

"If it makes you feel better have your Floga at the ready." Harry reached for his wand slowly as the woman accepted his compromise and a beautiful emerald flame ignited on her smooth palm.

Harry smoothed out his button clad jacket, took out his wand, extracted his shrunken trunk and enlarged it. He tapped his foci with his trunk to open it and thought about what he wanted. The climax of this little show was rather anticlimactic with the result of the mage taking out what looked like a tin can of baked beans.

"Now what?" she asked.

"We wait for my memory shaft to open," Harry said helplessly. "The magic in the can also will open up a bubble in my memory my leader placed in my subconscious three years ago. It should lead you to a safe haven far from the influence of the magi."

"A safe haven?" she asked, hiding her hope poorly. "And a memory shaft is only possible when a higher Fae or god bestows it as a boon."

Harry skilfully managed to avoid the indignation that wanted to smear his usually warm face. So what if he was young? It didn't stop him interacting with the higher races dwelling here or in the Nevernever. Making bargains or becoming a patron with these entities always came in useful like the one he bargained with now with this duty being a payment he was more than happy to agree to. "I've been around a bit more than most, just leave it at that."

Harry listened for the signs of battle, the call of people coming closer by the moment and unluckily for the impatient party finishing up the clean-up of their camp the spell fire was inching closer to their encampment. Harry could even pick out flashes of light from far away and the veela were getting edgier, some looked ready to fight.

When all felt like it was lost and Dara had gradually frowned until she looked like her forehead was a ploughed field, at their last possible shred of courage he felt a sharp pain in his brain. Harry shuddered as he was suddenly inundated with new information. At the back of his mind ramming it forward if the headache was anything to go by, Harry remembered a location of an empty field with a stone circle in the centre, a contact name and something for his magic to lock onto. The magic employed was called a mental shaft (or for those that needed a literal answer a memory block) that normally kept this information better hidden than a Fidelius charm with its flaws and a magic only possible when a higher life form conjured it on a human being's behalf. It kept it all on a need to know process.

Anyway Harry muttered the activation word 'Gazelle on a bike' and it began to hum like a gunned car engine. It was lucky the damn portkey didn't react to human auras or he would be somewhere in the middle of nowhere right now.

"You can all leave here with this," Harry said with a reassuring smile. "Ask for Akalamdug. He'll guide your flock to the new world or wherever you want to go." The woman took the transportation device and waved her tribe over.

"What about my sisters?" Dara asked, blazing her Parousia unnecessarily at him. Harry rolled his eyes at her and held his wand up.

"I swear on my magic again that I will send them after you with the spare portkey in my trunk so mote it be." Harry's aura shined once again to signify the newest oath being cast.

Harry waited until the girls were all in line before pointing to the portkey. They deferred to their leader, some in their bird Soma forms while most of the rest noticeably all the children were gathered in a single huddle trying like some prey did with safety in numbers. Little Eva with a tent on her back strapped comically sideways stepped up to her mother and hugged her leg.

"_Where are we going mother?"_

"_To freedom sweetheart,"_ Dara reassuringly spoke, unleashing her allure in a gentle manner meant to settle her curious child. _"Mr. Potter has promised to lead us all to safety then he will bring back our missing sisters and he is going to send them to our new home so nobody else in our tribe need ever work for the Ioveanu brothers ever again." _Harry took note of that name in case he came across them. The state they were in made him realise that the veela in the stadium might not be as safe as they could be.

The little girl absolutely beamed at Harry, her childish delight made the rather agitated mage relax and grin at her boyishly remembering his old siblings, making him forget about his anger towards the veela's welfare. It warmed his heart that their new location, their new homes and rights would be guaranteed by the protection of its presence. The little girl went red at his genuinely sincere expression and hid behind her mother.

"_Thank you again,"_ Dara thanked, earnestly giggling at her daughter, _"I trust you and remember Mr Potter you are welcome wherever we are."_ The other women bowed in their collective assent to the declaration. Everyone in the tribe, with Dara taking the lead, took hold of the object setting off the delayed timer. The rest of the tribe followed when space on the portkey ran out, holding onto Dara, their leader making a chain that when activated sent them to their new homes.

"Now, to get the rest of them," Harry muttered, after seeing them leave.

Harry Potter first needed to know the location of the people dribbling into his area. Looking around he protected his perimeter by casually circling his general perimeter with a pressure triggered warning system tied to his sense of touch. To anyone breaching it would be as if they ran an ice cube down his back. He looked in the pitch black for any clever Fae using better stealth and to investigate with a visual confirmation the magi covered one eye with his palm. Harnessing his ironclad focus, channelling his ability to draw energy from his saturated surroundings and then by adding a droplet of intent he began to form his connection with his raven allies.

Harry revealed his green emerald eye; a gift from his mother's bloodline iris was now beady and as black as the heart of a demon forming his link to his every faithful familiars. That was in this case a murder of jet black ravens given to him by contract. He was instantly assaulted by a thousand different images of the forest with stalking shadows leading through his entire route to this forest floor. Splashes of orange and red from the burning field of the Quidditch world cup resembling the very hellfire pits of some awful hell dimension painted a very grim picture of the situation. He could see people screaming, the muggles floating in the air rotating three hundred sixty degrees and being attacked with some kind of horrific torture curse by death eaters…

There were death eaters here? There was no question with those black robes; long pointed hats that reached into the heavens resembling what some would claim to be the shinigami of Japanese legend and those silvery mock crow masks. It was like he had seen in a man's memory once in a pub near Devon. Ironically, his father had been seen by the owner of the memory in that battle.

"Playing at spy are we young master?" a voice cawed out to him in the darkness.

"He plays with the powers we gave him," called out another very similar to the first.

"Like a boy with his toys," mocked the first voice.

"A boy with his toys," agreed the second. "Our brethren are like toy soldiers."

"But they didn't get to play much before we made our pact."

"The favour we savour until it is needed," the first voice corrected the second.

Harry counted the death eaters ignoring the squawk like tones of his newcomers. He knew the pair well. They were his first companions upon first visiting the Nevernever, his guides and at one time his harmless friends until his greed got to the best of him and…

"He's ignoring us again," the beta griped amused, "Remember when he used to bow and scrape his knees, trying to keep us happy."

"You had to tell him that he didn't need to when he bowed in that frozen river, so it's your fault you spoiled our fun."

"No, it was you."

"No," alpha voice said voicing his disagreement, "It was you."

"Was it?" the beta voice said. "You are lame in the brain."

"At least I have two eyes," it retorted.

Harry tuned out their petty argument, grimacing at the number of lethal death eaters heading towards him. Their numbers were great, too hard to count in the shadows of the forests but five ravens were observing the pureblood monsters in the stadium numbering ten in all setting fire to the tents. Four more of the fiends were getting their jollies by burning everything else and another three flunkies of the dark lord tortured the brain dead muggles.

"I just have to get lucky?" Harry muttered. "Or do I use my invisibility cloak?" Harry unsheathed a beautiful dirk from his hip hidden under his tight jumper. It was magnificent with a glittering short edge and read the markings denoting travel between worlds. "I could try jumping into the Nevernever."

"There is not another _place_ here to cross back to close by and you won't find one for miles," cawed the first voice.

"We told you before that the Ways do not bend to your whims," cawed too the second voice.

"Shut up!" Harry snapped sheathing his blade, "If you two idiots can't help, then let me figure out a way to get past Odin knows how many enemies coming this way."

"What does he see?" asked the beta voice.

"He sees danger and he can't walk away with that contract with the fire woman on him."

"Should have been more careful then, shouldn't he?" taunted the second voice once more.

"Alright then, Huginn, and you too, Muninn, you bloody tell me a good idea then." Harry's spirited challenge led to him then losing control over his power. Rubbing his stinging eye he covered his mouth for the tone he had taken with them but it was but a moment too late.

"We can help."

"But, it'll cost you."

Harry tried to play down his outburst. He stupidly offered them to make a proposition. These two ravens were ravenous guys, harsh with terms and conditions. They still held a favour over him that they could call in at any time, anywhere and what they could make him do to fulfil their pact was rather woolly on limits.

"I never meant that the way I did," Harry grumbled, covering his eye again to regain the raven's eye.

"They keep moving forward," Huginn declared, the voice formerly known as alpha said. "My old eye tells no lies."

"Then…" Harry bit down on his lips. Asking a direct question when they no longer in the mood to be playful required payment. They were lenient for banters sake but only when they were in this mood. Sometimes his contracts had to state questions included back in the old days when they guided him and right now no deal had been bartered.

"He is stuck yet refuses to barter?" Muninn japed in an accusing manner, "You think death will cheat you out of our deal? We can make sure you end up in Valhalla, a warrior for the Valkyries to keep sated, because you will be killed unless you plan to renege on your deal and lose your magic."

"Maybe the young master wants to die?"

"I knew I should have given him my eye. It might have been fun seeing through his eyes once in a blue moon before he died."

"I might not die," Harry shouted back, extinguishing his light circle floating way up high above him and crouching down. The already screwed magi didn't need to light up his location to the mass murderers and rapists. He placed his wand on the ground and mumbled an incantation.

"He hopes to feel all of the death eaters," Huginn said sounding almost smug, "Over all the people running to this exact spot."

"Poor little wizards messing up his tracking spell and he is sitting in the dark," crowed Muninn. "Doesn't want to make a deal with us and even when we have only a little price in mind for him to pay."

"Thirty death eaters coming out to play with our little wizard," Huginn sang off key, "Thirty death eaters want to play with our little wizard, oh so they do. With no veela around to play they'll make do with our little wizard, oh yes they will."

Harry's heart stopped in that moment. There were thirty coming round to this exact spot? They were bringing thirty of those scum-bags to rape and murder this tribe of veela. They wouldn't get what they wanted hell no those bastards, they wouldn't get their sport. No mothers offering themselves to protect their children only for the poor girls to be horribly defiled like back in the Second World War.

"_At least I did something right before the end,"_ Harry thought, feeling meaningless vibrations in the ground. He concluded his magical spell and stood back up. The lights of three tight groups of wizards' wands were pin pricks in the absolute black of the forest, enjoying the safety in their numbers from the dangers of the forest. They were chatting among themselves frivolously with debauchery and song in mind. They actually seemed to be intoxicated like it was a day at a gala event. "But who do I take down?" he mused seeing the advantage however minor.

"There are too many wizards and not all of them drunk."

"Some came for the sport and stayed off the port," Muninn jeered, "Sure you don't want to make a deal with me? I promise not to be mean. It will benefit you thrice promise."

That was an interesting turn of phrase. A being of the Nevernever using the term 'thrice promise' was as binding as a magical oath to a wizard even if it was honorary compared to the binding coiling effect of magic that physically held you to honour it. But they like all ageless creatures of the Nevernever had a way of twisting what was a solemn oath but it was all he had.

He was grasping at straws. It was accepting this or fighting his way out. In the deep dark forest… With no means of seeing in the dark with the raven eye, something he could implement only by standing still at the moment, and too little time to draw upon more useful equipment… Fuck, he'd taken on worse odds, but at that time usually speaking, Harry had a trick up his sleeve, a company of allies or a time dependant objective… It normally moreover had the advantageous option of running the fuck away from whatever Odin Harry had pissed off and trying again later…

"_Damn I would need to see my circle to use anything from my bag of tricks and if I use any light now they would use it to point their killing curses at me." _If someone could read his thoughts they would see the despair and helplessness he was feeling_._

"This is getting boring," Huginn said sounding bored.

"And he is being more stubborn than usual," Muninn said agreeing, "Should we improve our terms?" Muninn suggested further.

"You mean do that?" Huginn sounded bemused. "It's been an age."

"Yes we should do that. He is a mortal man after all and it will be easier this way."

Harry was disturbed by this line of conversation. What the hell could a pair of ravens he hadn't even seen yet with his own eyes because of the dark tonight have as a trump card? The Potter teen was leaning towards just taking a hit for the team just to get to escape from certain death and accomplish his promise to Eva and Dara. But these insinuations the ravens made were deliberate and premeditated to frighten him and by hell he was not someone to fall to pressure despite the obvious implications of his stubbornness.

Suddenly his hackles were raised as the rush of True magic flowed into the area. A powerful force had just interrupted the natural order of the universe and this presence no wait this was a familiar presence. _They_ were doing this somehow and twisting the nature of True magic in ways mastered over countless lifespan of mages.

Harry gathered his resolve and shot off a marking spell into the air. It struck an invisible field and sprayed it a beautiful mauve colour in a gaseous state over the entire diameter of the bubble. The green eyed teen fell on his ass when he saw the devilish mask of a death eater no more than ten feet from him only frozen stiff.

"Did you just stop time?" Harry shouted startled. He scrambled to his feet and searched for the ravens, the minions of the god Odin.

They had never demonstrated any power to this standard before. Some species of sentient in the Nevernever just had certain limitations and a point where their powers couldn't grow no matter how much training or rituals they initiated. Of course there were means if you didn't mind the severe consequences or submitting themselves to servitude to a higher being. Harry knowing how independent these birds were thought they were in this category, beings with incredible powers but with limits.

The flapping of wings alerted him to their general direction directly above him. Harry offered them his arm, their normal perch where instead they landed either side of him nearly invisible in the blackened floor that was so black the teen couldn't see his feet.

"Now, stay still," the one eyed Huginn scolded.

"Or you might hurt yourself," Muninn concurred.

Harry in purple light bore witness to the transmogrification of Huginn and Muninn. They started as simple identical ravens with one missing an eye to tell them apart to them flapping their wings out.

"Could I be the first?" he mused curiously. Should he sketch or document this event in his journal? Some animal gods, demons or deities/arch deities/false gods/ 'real gods' and anything else that liked to play with anthropomorphic traits and outright beast forms never exposed their 'true' forms which for some reason almost always were human like. It was one of those 'unexplainable' things that sprouted legends and fanciful theory on the origins of religion, mythology and about everything else muggles listed under fiction.

Before Harry could write (or remember he couldn't see jack to locate his sketchbook) prize winning material the transformation was completed. The feathery forms rotated so their tips were perfectly vertical and the wings opened causing a gust of wind to blind him.

And his jaw promptly hit the floor.

The ravens he always assumed to be guys, from the way they acted like seven-year-old boys with a favourite toy (Harry), were women! They left him gobsmacked at how bloody deity like they held themselves. Their hair was long, black as their feathers and framed their elfin faces. The flesh was white as snow, almost like it could melt to the touch and caught his breath. The pair of raven deities wore these shimmering black gowns with long flowing sleeves covered in feathers concealing their hands and the legs were cut at the knee revealing toned muscular legs and bare feet. It was like staring at someone looking into a mirror, shining so beautifully a common man could be enslaved by it except when you stared into their soulless black eyes, the only sign left of their former status as ravens except for a feathery eye patch worn by Huginn that she had moulded into an intricate mask you were reminded of how inhuman they were.

"From the looks of it, he likes what he sees," teased Huginn, holding a delicate hand revealed by the way her long sleeve fell back over her luscious, poisonous black lips.

"He is still a boy," giggled her partner, "He is just a…" She left it there when a dainty red tongue ran over her own lips. "Child." She giggled as Harry gulped in a breath. He bit his lip to little effect but he had broken faux pas number one. Never let a higher being take hold of your aura and body with their allure. Anything possessing higher powers such as transformation right up the cream of the crop currently known to be freely mingling with humans the high Sidhe of the seasonal courts could manipulate wizards in ways veela would be seen as mere children.

"I thought you were… were…" Harry had lost total control over the situation. He had dropped his guard and his whole body had simply decided to ignore him. The muscles had gone on strike, the electrical impulses in his mind were on maternity leave and his eyes were stuck on channel 'strangely arousing twins' who were no more than five minutes ago irritating birds.

Hey, he was a guy! He was allowed to look and be freaked out at the same time. It came hand in hand with fucking around in the True magic and the numerous entities that existed within the world that inhabited the infinite Ways of the Nevernever.

"What? That we were men?" guessed the one eyed beauty with more giggling. It was like watching two costumed teens going to a Halloween party. "Whatever gave you the idea the master would employ men as messengers?"

"All men know what to do is break things and drink mead," concurred her sister, "Now, about that deal. The temporal bubble won't just hang around forever and those death eaters for your information are moving. Just really, really slowly like the way you are today with realising how much trouble you are in, boy."

However ignoring the mocking slight, the youngest Potter boy was still stuck in the 'They are girls and gaping mouth open like a feeding killer whale' phase.

"Oh, how cute," Huginn mocked, caressing his cheek from out of nowhere. Harry didn't even flinch in fright. He just sort of jerked like his body was catching up with his brain. He tried expelling the control component until finally his fogged mind was just misty but workable.

But, his occlumency saved the day. Harry managed to muster the will and caught her hand; planning to push it away instead he decided just to hold it. The material of her gown was so silky it was addictive. He actually ran his thumb and index finger along the breadth of her arm, powers older than his family line twisting more into his sense of touch and spreading like a malevolent plague into the others. Smell became focused on her alluring scent of the earth and magic ozone all Fae exuded, his eyes, god his emerald eyes couldn't look away…

"Oh, he likes you."

The woman he was caressing actually had a tinge of red to her ghostly face. The very human expression seemed to jolt his lacklustre thoughts into action. Harry leapt away like he was a cat with a bucket of water dumped on him and then used the offending hand to slap himself across the face hard enough to dislodge his glasses.

"Stop it with the mojo," Harry commanded, but to no effect. They were just as bulletproof to his anger as people when they were birds. Now, they were worse. Birds he could handle, but beautiful women were like dealing with Sidhe. It was a painful and time consuming process talking with them seriously for any more than a minute because they knew they were something to work for to obtain.

"But, we want to make our deal," Huginn said sensually, grabbing one arm and pressing it into her chest.

"We want to make our deal before our little wizard dies pointlessly," groaned her partner claiming the other arm and mimicking her sister.

To both allures the insidious power they threw at him point blank where he didn't have time to employ any countermeasures, Harry was putty in their hands and willing to listen.

"Okay," Harry muttered, not used to resisting like normal people, "I will listen, so," Harry tried squirming free from their grip, but they weren't letting go, giggling at his attempts to resist, "Let me go damn it."

"But, we like touching you," Huginn whispered into his ear.

"We want to barter our deal with the little mage like this."

Harry could always refuse so he nodded frantically to prove his agreement.

"Well, we will promise you a way to safely escape this forest."

"It will be perilous."

"It would be dangerous as well."

"We promise nothing but a means to an end."

"To guide you by an act conjured by us."

"To those veela that you seek, but your safety is not guaranteed."

Harry groaned at the tricky way they perfectly started and ended each sentence without cutting into the other's talking time in perfect synch with no gaps in between. With the intoxicating powers at their control and this method of throwing the wizard off by struggling on whom to focus his attention to he was screwed if he did not regain control. The shock of their humanoid forms was honestly still throwing him off his game.

"What is the price?" Harry found himself asking, despite his objections.

"Why?" Muninn started talking for the first time that night, another trick to disrupt their rhythm.

"We wish for you to stop playing games and allow us to take your leash off."

That word was a trigger. Anger was an almighty motivator and had Harry summon his True magic for a powerful repelling spell. That was something he hated above everything else. That subject was taboo, insinuations of it not withstanding and their knowledge of his impediment still troubled him with how they came to learn of it.

"Who told you of the Han cage? It is a closely guarded secret. Hell I'm not meant to know about it!" Harry snapped but the will to go through with his actions failed when another wave of that powerful pressure struck him flat out of even trying.

"Our master sees plenty."

"Our master is wise."

"Our master is strong."

"Our master is all knowing."

"Yes, yes," Harry said, hating the very mention of the illustrious Odin, the king of the Norse gods. "But how did… You know what, never mind, I won't be told. So the price is enduring insufferable pain and still maybe I could die at the end of it?" Harry snarled, "I am not some obsolete god's plaything. I will not be played with by fate!"

"No, we do not play with fate."

"The Norns would play tricks on us."

"Fate is the responsibility of the Norns. We just want you to unbound, strong and more useful to play with."

"The Ninth Circle mage must be brought into play."

Harry shook his head violently. Those words had been uttered by his father after being told about it by his absent mother when they thought they were alone that day when the Potter family split. It was what justified their cause and every time that phrase echoed in his mind, rage and anger, powerful, if not dangerous components of Sorcery for their addictive qualities, burned like an inferno in his heart. But, why were they saying this now when so much time had passed, the Han cage's influence ever stronger constricting him like a powerful serpent? It didn't make any sense.

"I will not risk my life like that. I've endured without my full power since I was a small child and I don't need it either. I am not going to leave it to bloody Jasmine, the one that was born and marked with that destiny to accomplish that foolhardy mission. The dark lord will probably not return but…" Harry had researched the numerous rituals True magic claimed could bring a man back to life each as gruesome as the last. His little declaration of his stopped because he didn't believe what he was saying himself completely. "Somebody has to watch over my sister and I can't do that if I'm dead!"

"But, it is our price."

"Why should I?" His anger was evident in his voice. Why were they insisting on something that wasn't possible? That Dumbledore might be a condescending prick sometimes, but he was a wise man with years of experience battling the dark arts and learned of a bias to Sorcery because of the tragedy early in his life that was well documented. Even he could accept it when something was impossible or far too risky.

To his anger, they ignored him completely. They were like this, a lot; to this immortal selfishness, all of the Nevernever were prone to withholding information at their leisure. They just couldn't lie, but it seemed immortality eroded their morals; maybe all along it was a purely human concept. Or perhaps, since they didn't have to worry about death, plans could be put off indefinitely because in the end they would be done anyway? Who knew really what they were thinking? "And the bubble of time will fade the moment we have your final answer if it positive or negative."

"Our favour will be played out in Valhalla if you should decline. Just a little awakening and you will have more of a chance of living indeed."

"Indeed. You will actually have a chance of surviving. If you don't first die of course."

"If it doesn't kill me trying to control it," Harry said out loud testing the waters.

"Our magic will stop it, so be aware."

"Once it starts to awake, it stays awake."

He stared out at the death eater he first saw in this fake world. All he had to accept the extreme likelihood after so much time passing this awakening could kill him? The black bindings could be gone forever but the gamble? Was it worth it?

To truly be what he was? A Ninth Circle of all things, the words stirring his past that often was held back by occlumency. It was not a fond memory, all part of the worst period of his existence when a boy didn't know who or what if anything wanted him. The days, the months, the year Harry James Potter had lost the thing that made him a Potter… His beloved family…

Harry screamed inside himself in fury at that being brought up. His rawest memory bound by mental discipline stripped away and left exposed like an open festering wound. There were more ways to avoid fate even if their veiled words implied a deeper destiny than Harry had planned. Fuck the Norns! Fuck Odin! Hells bells fuck the entire kingdom of Asgard. Their meddling would be defied and a reckoning promised! He swore he'd lead a revolt in Valhalla for this!

"Fine do it," Harry said resignedly knowing his decision making was not truly his. "You have a deal thrice promise. I will submit to gaining my power."

"Superb!"

"You agreed!"

"I knew we would get what we want."

"Master Odin will be so pleased."

"He really wanted this to pass."

"So does our patron, Hel."

Harry went for another dizzy spell at Hel, the goddess of the dead requesting he be persuaded into accepting this offer. Didn't goddesses, as well as troublesome gods, have better things to do than meddle with magi?

"So why would…" Harry never got the chance to finish that line. Both of the ravens blew up harmlessly into a blanket of feathers and vanished.

"Welcome back, oh great _Child_ of Death."

That echoing mocking statement was the prelude as time returned to normal, but something was different. His body shook and shivered. His mind all of a sudden at war within himself to ignore the complicated meaning of death's link to him was suddenly aware of the other presence implanted by his father to contain his magic as a child. The words of a lost family line, their distant ancestors on his father's side awoke and a violent raspy sound escaped his lips.

"Damn for all times for this distraction to awaken," Harrison muttered out of the sudden excruciating agony that coursed through his every cell. So it had been after all. As those words escaped his hissing lips, a ripple like a shock wave passed through his body as a certain celestial body passed through him with their strings now cut. "And they stripped it off all at once?" he added in anguish, feeling the burn in his eyes. "There goes my eyes," he muttered darkly, feeling the beginning of the purge as black liquid leaked out of his eyes. Why would they wake up that maelstrom inside him? The Han cage had kept it quiescent up till now. Sure, he had read about the possibilities of the Ninth Circle, rituals of the old world that could be performed but never had he actually practised them. Before he had accepted his loss of power, the cage carrying a potential death sentence if they were severed by force but now his Sorcery would only be more powerful, more contained by their contribution in harnessing his untamed power.

Was his caution really worth it? Was this his time to ascend and repair his clipped wings?

His thoughts vanished with the next wave of unbridled agony burst through him, his skin squelched as the strain of the blood-letting took full force. The True magic of the ravens started carving their ethereal daggers into his body, wounds splurged open to release their black venom and then closed again.

Not that he would know that, of course. He was dead after all.

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LIST OF TERMS (Not Saying Them Again lol)

Huginn and Muninn are a pair of ravens that are meant to belong to Viking god, Odin, who tease Harry and offer riddles and supply clues and lead him with advice on his trip to the Nevernever in the early days. They have female alter ego forms too and Huginn currently has loaned him the user of one of her eyes for him to invoke his contract with the raven familiar squad at his disposal. She can see through it too when it's active or inactive with her bond to the ravens since she too is linked to them.

Akalamdug- Mystery figure

(Veela magical terms provided unofficially by PhanatasmagoricBlade so love him and read his neglected fic)

Veela magic

(Greek)

Floga- flame

Soma- body

Parousia- presence

_And now some other terms (not provided by PhanatasmagoricBlade) you might need to know_

Evocation- In this case it's an art based around bursts of magic. It is mainly based around for simple acts such as force magic or conjuring fireballs. It is all basically for small uncomplicated pieces of magic requiring little preparation time or special ingredients. But it can backfire if you do not treat it with care.

Thaumathurgy-This is for complicated rituals requiring a circle to help contain and prepare magical spells from special potions to complicated feats of magic such as invoking demons or altering the weather. It can also help in the forging of special magical items and even in such esoteric arts like necromancy and other black arts. Usually this branch of magic needs specific items and long drawn out incantations.

The usual preparation method surrounds making a perfect circle, triangle or other shape that is made around you with whatever is in hand be it salt, sand or even if you are skilled enough as simple as a felt tip pen. Then you step into the circle and seal it with magic forging the bubble where you gather your energies and pour it into the mass. Then you perform the necessary parts of whatever spell or magical thing you are performing then you break the circle releasing the magic and performing the feat you intended to perform.

The only exception to all these rules are items prepared in advance those need whatever small extra spell or sacrifice to bring to life such as rings of power and rare magical items like a lich ring.

Runemancy- As stated previously a lost art that is however poorly named. This works with any symbols but it was the Norse that came up with the concept of making words and giving them power in this world. You need to prepare your fingers to be able to tangibly write words with magic spelling out the sentence you require. This is a lost art for a reason as while its applications are limitless it has numerous drawbacks like time required, concentration and it can only be done with your fingers. No foci such as a wand can replace your fingers and you need to draw quickly.


End file.
